


hated by life itself (but it'll be okay if you love me.)

by azusa_konno (DecayedDruid)



Category: Readyyy! Project (Video Game)
Genre: And Hiyori too, Angst, As a lot of them would say haha, AzuHiyo Nation Unite, But seriously please let Azusa be happy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, There's so much context needed but I'm posting this so Readyyy! server fam can read it, They both deserve happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayedDruid/pseuds/azusa_konno
Summary: He was supposed to go meet up with Azusa an hour and a half ago. It really wasn't that hard to get up from bed and just walk to the living room area of Shirasu House, where he'd just continue to relax with his boyfriend. So why did it feel like the most taxing thing in the world to just get up and go? He wasn't a nineteen-year-old hikikomori anymore.Alternatively, where Hiyori learns that the people that truly care are going to be patient and work with you, not against you.





	hated by life itself (but it'll be okay if you love me.)

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeey, finally posting something here. There's SO much context for outsiders here that's missing, and honestly, I plan on posting the story that gives that context at some point, too. But my Readyyy! server fam knows it all ( ~~and kudos to them for putting up with my gushing and ranting~~ ), so they'll understand what's happening in this fanfiction. Otherwise, I hope you can still follow along if you decide to read anyway, and enjoy my writing. Thank you!

00:24. The red numbers on the digital alarm clock flashed, as if screaming in their own mechanical way, overbearing on Hiyori's tired purple eyes. For once, he wasn't revved up on caffeine, though he supposed he really should have been. He had to meet up with Azusa—what?—nearly an hour and a half ago. Typically the idol wouldn't have been awake, in form with his 'old man' personality, he was early to rest and early to rise... But he and Hiyori were going to spend time together tonight. And yet...

' _Depression kinda sucks, doesn't it? Thought I would've kicked it more so by now. I'm not a nineteen-year-old hikikomori anymore, but I came here for some alone time beforehand and... I just... Can't get up to save my life._ '

Hiyori, put out by the clock's loud flashing numbers, turned his eyes to the ceiling. A plain white—or pale eggshell, he never was able to fully tell—with a black trim. The DearPro producer still hadn't really decorated his room, and to be upfront, didn't plan on it ever. After casting away his past, it all hurt—his belongings, so he got rid of all of them. All of them, they had memories of _him_. Junichirou Ichinose.

A name filled with vitriol, with poison, with kerosene. The lilac-and-blue-haired man could feel bile and acid in the back of his throat just by the thought of him. An abhorrent human being, if he could have been considered human. … But could Hiyori really be human himself, in argument? Times like this, he felt less human, and more like a shattered reflection in a mirror. He wasn't sure if he was Himself, he had to throw away who he used to be and reinvent himself. Was he really this person? Was this Hiyori Tsukasa? Was this the little boy that Seri Tsukasa had given birth to and raised for—

A knock on the door startled Hiyori to his core, causing him to jerk up with a deer in the headlights expression. What—? It was past midnight, so who...? Sighing, exhaustion far too settled in his bones for him to get up without struggle, Hiyori treaded over to the door. His stomach dropped as he opened the door. _Oh, it was Azusa._ Shame coloring his cheeks, the producer lowered his head to the floor.

“Ah, Azusa, I—Erm,” Hiyori was already stumbling over his words, mentally scrabbling for something that _wouldn't_ make him seem that an awful person that stood his boyfriend of barely six months up. His mouth would repeatedly open, and close, tears already springing to the corners of his eyes. ' _Wait, no, crap—I didn't think it'd be **this** bad-!_'

“Hiyori,” Azusa spoke softly, causing said man to look up with a confused expression. The idol frowned, concerned, when he immediately noticed the budding tears. “... May I come in?” 

What? Hiyori was briefly stunned at the lack of malice and upset, but tried to recover. “Ah, ahm—Yes, of course, I—Come in, please, Azusa. M-make yourself comfortable.” 

'He was stammering, just like in the beginning.' A shared thought and observation between the both of them, as Hiyori hadn't shown any form of insecurity or anxiety for a few months. Azusa set a small tray of tea, that Hiyori didn't even initially notice he had at first, down on the bedside table. Of course _Azusa made **tea**_. The producer's heart swelled with affection painfully. ' _Are you even mad at me...?_ ' 

Azusa sat on Hiyori's bed once given a curt nod of consent, nervously picking at his nails. Hiyori shut the door with a soft 'click', walking over and sitting next to him. The tension blanketed over them, and did you know the fibers of the beige carpet had traces of a maroon color in them? Azusa cleared his throat gently, awkwardly, and he looked sadly at Hiyori when the producer _flinched_. 

“I'm—I'm so sorry,” Hiyori started, and once he did, it was simply a landslide of words, “I wasn't trying to do this to you. I just—When I laid down earlier, I just—I wanted to have some recharge time for myself beforehand, that was it, you know? But I just, the old sadness I used to deal with, it edged in, and I just— _ **Couldn't**_ —I wasn't able to—” 

At the tail end, Hiyori's voice became cracked and raspy, and the producer gritted his teeth as he curled up and placed his face into his hands, trembling with grief and frustration. Azusa couldn't see the tears making tracks down his cheeks, but the muffled sniffles and occasional wrack of a silent sob told him everything that Hiyori didn't. Hesitantly lifting a hand, he slowly reached out, unsure if Hiyori would appreciate him touching him. They all knew about Junichirou—about who Hiyori was—now, and Azusa didn't mind in the slightest. 

Hiyori was Hiyori. He was still the man that teased Azusa himself, and all the other idols, about miscellaneous things every day. Hiyori sang with them all now, he taught Mitsuki how to paint, and gave Takumi artwork, watched shows with Aki when no one else was available—he was always available for anyone of Shirasu House. The man hardly slept at times, and Azusa sometimes wondered if it was possible for a human to substitute their blood with a form of caffeinated beverage, but he worked hard. 

He was patient with Azusa when he got confused with technology and subtly frustrated. He gave him warm hugs whenever he was cold, he looked cute himself when he was flustered, told Azusa things he never expected to hear from anyone else. Hiyori taught himself to sing and play piano once more to prove his devotion to Azusa—how could he ever become any extreme form of fed up or angry with this person, who time and time again showed his endless worth? 

All he ever wanted to do was make Hiyori as happy as he made Azusa, himself. All he ever wanted to was show Hiyori what he showed himself—He deserved to be cared for, too, he wasn't doomed to be alone. He deserved support and care, too. Especially after... After... 

Gently placing a hand on Hiyori's shoulder, Azusa could see the irezumi phoenix tattoo peeking out from under his black, sleeveless button up shirt. He took his thumb, gently tracing the outline of the shapes, applying small amounts of pressure in an attempt to comfort. He scooted closer to the producer, their thighs eventually touching and Azusa leaning more into his boyfriend. He slid his hand across Hiyori's tense shoulder blades, wrapping that arm around him and pulling him into a hug. As his nuzzled into the crook of Hiyori's neck, he could smell traces of coffee, his favorite vanilla and patchouli candle, and a hint of his body wash. 

It soothed Azusa, and he sincerely hoped and prayed his weight provided relief and comfort for Hiyori. It was the least he deserved. He hushed the crying man, taking his free hand to try and pet at Hiyori's wildly fluffy and curly tresses. 

“ _Fuan ni... makesouna yoru mo..._ ” Azusa started to sing softly, carding his fingers through and occasionally twirling strands around his fingers, “ _Yuutsu ga harenai... asa mo...~ Kimi wa... Hitori janai... Welcome to the Special Nu World..._ ” 

(The anxiety losing nights / And the gloomy unclear mornings, too / You are not alone / Welcome to the Special Nu World) 

As Azusa continued to sing softly, Hiyori's crying had already ceased, his body more lax—and by that, he was almost becoming dead weight against the idol. Azusa hummed, scooting back on the bed and shifting Hiyori for him to have his laying on his lap. 

“ _Tsuredasu yo Brand Nu Your World... Kono te wo tsukande... Itsu made mo hanasanaide...~_ ” 

(I'll take you to the Brand Nu Your World / Take my hand and never let it go) 

He continued to pet Hiyori's head, a more lax smile crossing Azusa's lips at the man's sigh from his lap. He seemed a lot more calm, as compared to before. Good... That was... Good. 

“Do you feel better, Hiyori? I... I hope I helped,” Azusa murmured, his own face coloring rosy pink. Of all the times to be flustered, Azusa, it'd be _now_? He cleared his throat, surprised when a weak laugh came from Hiyori. 

“I... Yes, Azusa, I can't even be sarcastic... Yes, you... You made me feel so much better... Th—... Thank you. Um,” Hiyori seemed more cautious, hesitant now. It also admittedly made Azusa uneasy as a result. “... Are you not upset with me, Azu...?" 

Azusa blinked, caught off guard entirely. What...? “No, Hiyori, what reason would I have for that?” 

Hiyori swiftly rolled to turn his head to Azusa, giving him the most perturbed expression imaginable. What-? Not upset? And he said he didn't have any reason-?! 

“But I—I made you wait for over an hour and half—” 

“And I know you,” Azusa interrupted, voice soft and comforting, “You wouldn't do that without a reason—And that reason wouldn't be to hurt me. I patiently waited, and when you still had yet to come, I figured something was up. I wanted to check on you because I was concerned about you—Because I—Erm...” 

Hiyori blinked slowly, raising an eyebrow when Azusa came to an abrupt stop. The darker purple-haired boy hid his reddening face with his free hand, still twisting Hiyori's locks between his fingers to busy his hand. Hiyori sat up, though, silky curls slipping from Azusa's loose grip. 

“Because you what, Azu?” the producer said, a teasing edge to his tone. Azusa made a small and low groan, embarrassment burning his cheeks. Hiyori gently grasped his boyfriend's wrists, pulling them away from Azusa's face, though the idol was very determined on not making eye contact whilst being so flustered. His eyebrows furrowed, but Hiyori only leaned in closer, and Azusa leaned back a bit, pouting. Hiyori smirked. 

How did he manage to shift like that-?! 

“Because—... B... Because I—” Azusa inhaled deeply, forcing down the butterflies as he screwed his eyes shut. “Because I love you, okay, Hiyori? I was concerned because I lo—” 

And just like that, Azusa's sentence was being cut off and he was laying back against plush pillows, Hiyori's chilled hands cupping his absolutely _flaming_ cheeks. The producer was kissing him, a simple press of lips to his, but it conveyed so many emotions at once... Azusa's heart felt like it could burst. Hiyori could cry—or die—of happiness right then and there. That had been the _very first_ time Azusa had said such a statement—because when Hiyori said it a couple months back, Azusa stated he wasn't quite ready to say it himself... Which was fine. They took their relationship at their own paces, and if they did things at different times, so be it then. 

Hiyori would've waited years for Azusa if it meant he could become certain in his love for him. The fact it happened hardly felt real. When he pulled back, tears dripped from his long lashes, splattering on the idol's cheeks. However, the older man could confidently say these were tears of happiness. _All because of Azusa._

“I love you,” Hiyori whispered with a beaming grin. He embraced the idol, nuzzling into him. It was like a chant or mantra, and Hiyori simply couldn't stop saying it. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, Azusa—” 

Azusa laughed fondly, returning the hug as much as he could with Hiyori laying on his side next to him. The tea had been long forgotten, and it had also probably long since gotten cold, but... 

“Mmm...” The producer yawned, his grip tightening a bit. “... Would it be out of line to ask you to stay the night, Azusa?” 

Blinking, Azusa chuckled breathily and shook his head. “Not at all, Hiyori. I wouldn't mind at all... Anything for your happiness. And it would make me happy, as well.” 


End file.
